


Traitor

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quorra is a double agent working for Clu, and their relationship is a lot less than professional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> In the process of cleaning this up, as there are typos and (I personally feel) shitty sentences scattered all over.

“Do you think he knows?”  
  
Quorra shrugged before realizing that Clu wouldn’t appreciate the quiet gesture. “I don’t think he does,” she added.  
  
Clu hummed thoughtfully to himself and hooked one leg over the bike, resting his ankle on the seat. He’d been amusing himself on the light cycle grid when Quorra found him; practicing against invisible opponents for no real reason that she could tell. The advantages he claimed during the rare times his presence was warranted on the gaming grid all but eliminated the need for skill. Flynn would have said it was _like shooting fish in a barrel_.  
  
“I’m planning something,” Clu said suddenly, interrupting Quorra’s private musings. “If it works, you’ll have an important part to play.”  
  
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” A pointless question; she knew he wouldn’t.  
  
“Of course not.” He cocked his head at her and smiled mischievously. “Where’s the fun in that?”  
  
Quorra turned finally, looking him over with an appraising half-smile. She had learned as much from Clu in just over four hundred cycles as she had gleaned from Flynn’s vague and hypocritical lessons in twice that time. Even when he was being frivolous, Clu didn’t waste words; he was efficient, clean, like a program should be. There was something in him that Flynn had obviously never intended, and never fully understood. Flynn claimed it was a flaw, and said it drove Clu to destroy out of misguided intention—and maybe it was. But Flynn was the creator, and he was responsible for this world. Once Clu had opened her eyes, Quorra could never look at the great Kevin Flynn the same way again. He preached patience and self-sacrifice, expecting from others what he had _never_ been willing to give. _That_ was the downfall of her people; Clu’s actions were merely the unfortunate result of Flynn’s failures.  
  
She had been afraid of him the first time they met. A contingent of blackguard had captured her while she skulked around the city, looking for supplies and trying to locate one of her usual contacts. They beat her, dragged her to Clu’s feet and left her there like a gift. She looked up at him and waited for the end with as much dignity as she could muster. Instead she watched as Clu mercilessly dispatched her captors, leaving them scattered across the ground around her. He knelt next to her and brushed a hand through her hair, smiling as he gestured for one of his men to help her up. Once they were on his ship he explained everything; how Flynn had abandoned him, betrayed him, and then fled the Grid entirely, leaving him alone to manage what was never meant to be his alone. She was reluctant to listen at first, and none of it sounded very different from the version she’d both been told and seen for herself—only Clu included something that Flynn had never bothered to mention. He said he was _sorry._  
  
 _Flynn_ had never apologized for what happened to the Isos. He didn’t feel it was his fault; only the initial mistake was his, and he set everything else at Clu’s feet, much as Quorra had been.  
  
Only it _was_ his fault, and Clu had shown her that.  
  
“I can think of better ways to have fun than keeping me in the dark.”  
  
Clu smirked. “Can you?” He lowered his leg again, giving her room on the seat in front of him.  
  
Quorra swept one leg up and over the bike, taking a generous amount of space and leaving Clu flush against the stabilizer that would connect to his disc port while the bike was moving. She pushed him down over it, making his back arch at an awkward angle as she hooked her heels around his ankles and drew his legs forward. From there it was a simple slide forward against his lap, and she could feel a familiar hardness, eagerly awaiting what they both knew their clandestine meeting was ultimately about.  
  
“Already?” she asked, nudging herself against his cock.  
  
“Before you got here.” He reached up and grasped a handful of her hair, jerking her head back as his arm pressed her forward, giving him access to her neck. He bit and licked, peppering kisses along the clean curve of her throat. “I look forward to taking you in that hideaway of his,” he muttered against her skin.  
  
Quorra smiled and closed her eyes. She could feel his other hand on her hip, gripping her possessively. It was always that way when they spoke of Flynn, or the intimately small space Quorra shared with him. “Where would you have me first?” she asked, teasing him with thoughts of victory. “His bed?”  
  
Clu breathed hard above the collar of her suit and bit down just enough to make her twitch. “Across the table,” he said, pulling her tight against him. “Then the floor, by his ridiculous pillow. Where he can watch.” The hand in her hair twisted, and Quorra rolled her hips forward to appease his jealousy.  
  
“That’s a good start,” she said.  
  
Clu chuckled and released her. He swept his hand down the front of her suit, over the swell of her breasts, revealing pale skin and the glowing lines concealed beneath the tight black material. They branched out from the corresponding lines on her suit, pairing up and taking off in broken, intricate marks that had once been so common in the streets of Tron City. She watched him trace their edges with the tips of his fingers, concentrating as he explored her form. Every light touch sent shivers of excitement racing along her body. She swiveled her hips side-to-side, inviting him to move things along; they didn’t have much time.  
  
“Please,” she whispered. Clu turned his hand downward and slipped his fingers between her legs, taking the suit with him. He quickly removed the parts of his own suit that stood in the way.  
  
“Back,” he ordered. Quorra nodded and lowered herself across the light cycle’s flat console. The shape of the vehicle forced her body into an arch, giving him perfect access to every part of her that he enjoyed most. It left her looking up at the sky, but she could still feel him; his gloved fingers traced thin white lines along the inside of her thigh, up to her mound, before slipping slowly into her. She could feel the thrum of his gold circuits as he worked her, pulsing in time to his movements. Every thing about him was heat and power, and it only made her want him more. She spread her legs as much as possible, bracing her feet against the sliding plate that moved across the engine. The rumble of the idling bike seemed to transfer straight to her body, spreading through her and culminating in her center. She lifted her head and looked at Clu, trying to convey the sense of urgency that had her ready to derez from sheer need. He only lifted an eyebrow and pressed his thumb to her clit, making every circuit across her body flare at once.  
  
With a needy sound he draped himself over her body, keeping one hand between her legs as he reached up and grasped at her breasts with the other. Quorra closed her eyes and moaned as his tongue traced the edge of the wider light that curved over the left side of her chest, just next to her nipple. It was a spot that drove her wild, and he knew it well; he’d discovered that one erogenous zone early on, when their meetings became less about subterfuge, and more about fucking.  
  
“Again,” she begged. One hand braced against the bike behind her head, and she tangled the other in his hair. He swept his lips across her taut nipple and followed with another wide sweep of his tongue that made Quorra mewl and writhe beneath him. Clu wrapped his mouth around her breast then, sucking and biting gently, flicking the tip of his tongue over her skin. The hand between her legs pulled away, and he reached up to remove the one she had tangled in his hair, bringing it down between his own legs. Her fingers touched his cock and he hissed against her skin.  
  
“Stroke it,” he said between his teeth.  
  
Quorra did as she was told, twisting her body to the side to reach him. Clu pushed his hips forward to meet her, and his free hand roamed across her exposed stomach and hips. Finally it became too much, and he tore himself away, throwing her hand to the side as he angled to penetrate her. Without any preamble he moved forward, pushing deep and coming to a stop only when he couldn’t go any further. Quorra bit her lip and wrapped her shaking legs around his back.  
  
“Good girl,” Clu praised. “Show me how much you want it.”  
  
The way he filled her, it was hard to even think of moving, but she made the attempt; with both hands on the chassis of the bike behind her head, Quorra pushed herself down against him. Clu bent forward and placed his hands on the bike to either side of her chest, craning his neck to look down as she fucked herself on his cock. “ _Very_ good.”  
  
Quorra gasped out a quiet, pleading cry.  
  
“You want more?” he asked. He said it in the tone that sounded so much like Flynn, she almost forgot that she wasn’t standing next to him.  
  
“Yes,” she said, shaking her head to clear out all thoughts of the creator. “Please, _more_.”  
  
Clu’s smile disappeared, and in a flash of gold he was moving, shoving himself forward so hard that the bike nearly rolled with him. Quorra tightened her legs around his waist and shut her eyes tight. She could feel the hot gold circuits inside her, filling her and burning a path as he drove into her over and over. Clu reached down and wrapped his arms around her back; he buried his face in the side of her neck, and for a moment his movements were fast and shallow, bare thrusts that were more about need than pleasure. Quorra held on and tried not to expire from the sensation. Then he was gone; he sat up and took hold of her hips, switching to a longer rhythm and drawing out each thrust.  
  
“Is that enough for you?” he mocked.  
  
Quorra shook her head. “Never.”  
  
Clu reached back and lifted her legs from his waist. He pushed them forward until Quorra could feel her knees touching her sides, and both of her ankles were across his shoulders. The depth of his strokes increased, and Quorra reached to grasp anything she could hold onto. Every thrust threatened to send her backwards over the front of the bike. His fingers dug into her sized—the gold circuit that ended at the tip of his middle finger burned into her like a brand. “So imperfect,” he muttered, nearly lost in his own rhythm. “Imperfect and _mine._ _All mine_.”  
  
Quorra nodded uselessly and groaned through clenched teeth, rocking in time to each powerful wave of pleasure as his body slammed into hers. She couldn’t deny him, and she couldn’t argue—not that she would want to. She was his, and she would do whatever he wanted, no matter what he asked of her.


End file.
